"The police want to talk to you before you leave, though," they were told by the young doctor. "Feel up to it? It would save you the trouble of coming back to be interviewed tomorrow." Ritchie looked at Linzi enquiringly. "I can talk to them alone, if you don't feel you want to face it." She shook her head. "I'm OK." "Oh, tough as old boots," he mocked. "You look it! Well, first I want to ring Ted's wife and break the news to her myself, I owe her that. The police can wait another five minutes."
Linzi went into the hospital cloakroom while he was talking to Megan.
"Don't worry, it isn't serious, Megan, you don't need to come tonight. They'll be giving him a chauffeur-driven car to bring you here and take you home again. Ted may be able to go back with you so bring him some clean clothes."
Linzi shut the cloakroom door and felt a relief at being alone. She went to the lavatory, and looked at her smoke-blackened face with wry dismay. What a sight!
The water was delicious on her skin, she splashed a lot of cool, clean water on her face, feeling as if it was seeping in through every pore. She was so hot! Eventually she had to stop washing and dry her face, then she combed her hair, brushed grass and dust off her clothes. Well, she looked a little more normal now. When she rejoined him, Ritchie was talking to a policeman who was writing down what he said.
As soon as Linzi appeared, Ritchie broke off and said, "Can we do this tomorrow? We both feel pretty shattered by the accident and we need to get home." "We really need to talk to you tonight," said the policeman. "I've told you most of what I can tell you," protested Ritchie. The policeman looked at Linzi. "Can I ask you a few questions, Miss...,?"
"Mrs York," she told him.
He gave her a sharp look, his brows lifting slightly. "Mrs York," he repeated, writting the name down. "I see. And you were in the helicopter with Mr Calhoun?"
"She is my secretary," Ritchie said curtly, looking suddenly angry.
"I see, sir," the policeman said expressionlessly. Ritchie bit out, "Ted Hobson, the man who was injured, works for me, too. We were all up here researching for a confidential project. But that has nothing whatever to do with the accident. Until the helicopter has been inspected by a fire team and a flight engineer we won't have any idea what caused the crash. It may be a simple engine failure. But it will take time to determine the cause for certain, and until we know more there is no point in asking us questions."
"Well, I'm afraid I have to, sir," said the policeman with polite obstinacy. "It must have been a very distressing incident, so I won't ask any more question tonight, but it would help us if you and Mrs York stayed near by tonight and came in to the station to see us tomorrow mornin. There's a comfortable country inn not far from here. The Green Man." "Yes, we know it. I've been staying there for a few days," Ritchie said tersely.
"Well, if you insist we hang around this neighbourhood tonight, very well. We'll be at the Green Man tonight and call in at your station tomorrow morning. But just now Mrs York is as white as a ghost and may pass out altogether if you keep us standing here much longer, so can we go now?"
She was grateful to him for his protective attitude, although she wouldn't have minded answering the police questions. It was typical of Ritchie, though. He was a complex man, tough and hard working, shrewd and clear-headed, yet capable of being sensitive, thoughtful and kind. No wonder his men thought the world of him. Whenever there was an accident, Ritchie took enormous pains to see that an injured man got the best possible treatment, and that his family were equally looked after. His firm had a very good safety record and he was always trying to improve the safety standard of the sites, but on a construction site there were always accidents, as she had soon dicovered, some through human error, others through almost witful carelessness.
He was yawning now. "My God, I'm tired! What a day this has been! We had better get back to the Green Man, I'll organise a taxi." "How far away are we?" asked Linzi. "About four miles off." Ritchie looked at his watch. "It's nearly seven. I'd no idea all this had taken so long." His grey eyes narrowed on her face, probing it. "Will it be a problem with your husband if you spend the night away from home?"
She flushed, knowing what he was really asking. If only he hadn't seen those bruises, put two and two together and arrived at a far too accurate answer. "He's away all this week," she muttered. His face changed, a crooked smile curving his mouth. "Well, that makes thing easier, doesn't it?"
It did, of course. It was a tremendous relief to know Barty wasn't at home, waiting for me, watching the clock, getting angry and then storming out to get drunk.
But, she wished Ritchie didn't understand that so well.
"The police can't insist that we stay at Green Man can they?" she asked hesitantly, and Ritchie gave her a wry glances. "Not exactly, but frankly, I shall stay there anyway. I'm half dead on my feet. I don't know about you, but I could do with an early night, and I don't think you should drive all the way back home tonight, only to have to come back tomorrow."
She couldn't deny she was tired too, and she saw his point. Looking at him closely, she could see the lines deeply etched into his face, a greyness in his skin, tension in jaw and mouth. They had both had a bad day, but Ritchie had been the one who went to get help, he must be exhausted. "It isn't wise to drive after a traumatic experience like that one, either," he added drily, and she sighed, conceding that he was right. "OK. If I can get a room!"
"I'll ring them, then ring for a taxi," he said, walking over to a telephone on the wall in the hospital hallway. It was nearly eight before they reached the Green Man. The taxi was old, the driver older, and very slow. He negotiated the narrow country roads at the pace of an elderly snail. Linzi sat in the corner of the passenger seat, making herself as small as possible in order to stay as far away from Ritchie as she could, and stared out of the window at the green hedges, the trees behind them, in the fields.
YOU ARE READING
Guilty Love (Completed)
Romance"Everything I did was for you!" "For me? You killed my husband for me? Do you really think I wanted him dead? I loved him!" It was an obsessive passion. It had gone too far, and Linzi's husband had died as a result of it. Ritchie Calhoun was sexy an...
